


Sorry

by Magikorps



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: M/M, Vampire AU, dont read unless you like sort of unfinished one chaptered stories i know i dont lmao, hi im trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 19:33:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5218097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magikorps/pseuds/Magikorps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A body lay still, unmoving. Hanging limply from the tree branch several feet away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sorry

Blood trickled down his lip. His teeth clenched tightly, hands shaking. His heart beat wildly, he felt as though it'd choke him. Gray orbs stare at the thick liquid oozing from the gash, decorating the grass beneath with an ugly crimson. The hunger he'd usually felt was not present. The sight of this blood. Disgusting. Disgusting. He was disgusted. Why was it running like that?

How would he explain what happened?

A body lay still, unmoving. Hanging limply from the tree branch several feet away.

He picked himself up off the ground, slowly moving towards the body, steps heavy. His legs felt numb, everything felt numb. He couldn't feel his hands, his hands—

What had he just done?

Footsteps came to a halt in front of the body. Head hung, he stared down at the blood staining his dark clothes, shivering at the feeling of the warm substance slowly slithering down his fingertips.

Why him?

He'd been called a monster many times in his lifetime.

He recalled his name. Anger. The time his father had caught him. The time he had lost control of himself, the time his hunger had taken over his consciousness. He dug his fangs deeper into his deceased mother's neck, in an attempt to further hide his face, his shame. He was ashamed. He was ashamed he'd been born like this, like this monster, allowing his parents to perish in such a gruesome way, the people who'd taken him in when his 'real' parents abandoned him.

The time the doctor found him feeding on one of his patients. The time his teammate lay wounded in the infirmary. The sight of this exquisite blood. He would never get another chance to taste the sweet blood of the Frenchman again, at least, that's what he had believed.

"Ah, you monster."

He remembers the devious smile on the doctor's face, as he places the case he had been holding on the countertop beside him.

His glistening fangs pop out of the incision created in the soft flesh beneath the mask, as he quickly stumbles backwards, and away from the unconscious man in panic, searching for an escape.

The doctor only laughs at his panicked and reckless attempts.

The time— only seconds ago.

"Die, monster."

An ominous figure in a shawl and trench coat stands tall in the murky woods. At the words, he became attentive and aware of the figure, shifting to face them. Metallic silver shone through the darkness, alerting the sniper of the dangerous weapon this person possessed. A man, he could tell by the muscular build and deep voice. 

Monster. The word resonates in his mind over and over again. It will never stop.

He no longer flinches at the word. He knew what he was. He'd already accepted it.

But, to this day, he still wishes he'd been something different.

A click sounded. At that very moment he took the chance to attack, lunging at the perpetrator, curling his fingers and angling his hand, in order to inflict more damage. Sharp nails met the man's stomach, plunging through the layers of clothes, and penetrating the soft skin beneath. The perpetrator dropped the gun with a silent gasp. Sniper let out a triumphant growl as he flung the man away.

He froze.

He flung the man, suddenly familiar gray eyes shone beneath the shawl. Familiar, pained eyes, as he was hurled away, leaves shaking, as he hit the tree branch– and hung, swinging lightly back and forth.

Disbelieving look, eyes wide, brows furrowed, he steps towards the body again, gingerly pulling it off the branch, and laying it on the ground. He knelt by the body, stare blank. He gently nudged the man's side, willing for any kind of movement as a sign that he was still alive.

"Spy."

The man’s eyelids slowly slid open, revealing his beautiful gray irises. He averted his eyes, refusing to make eye contact with the man hovering above him.

"S-Stay away from me, filthy bushman,"coughs erupted from his throat, blood sputtered from his mouth, dribbling down his chin, more disgusting scarlet that *did not belong* painting the beautiful porcelain skin with red. He grit his teeth to stifle the coughs. Spy weakly pushed Sniper, the gunman's eyes widening with slight surprise.

The Frenchman's breaths were rough and shallow, his breaths turning into more of a heavy pant, eye twitching involuntarily.

Sniper huffed, eyes now half lidded, and removed the gloved hand from his chest, caressing it tightly, feeling Spy flinch below him, slowly sliding his thumb over soft nimble fingers under the fabric, hoping to calm the man below him.

But Spy continued to push him away.

**Author's Note:**

> whoopsies also i dont think ill be completing this one ahah hope you enjoyed


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